


Yellow Card

by ttakjoha (nematoda)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nematoda/pseuds/ttakjoha
Summary: Professor Park's students really, really want to know his relationship status.





	Yellow Card

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from "BBIBBI" by IU (a song about respecting privacy)

“There is no way he's single,” one student says to another in the front row of English Grammar and Composition. There’s only a few minutes until the class is scheduled to start, and the room full of university students is alive with the mellow hum of unpacking books and casual conversation. They have a ten page paper due the following week, and considering their professor’s notoriously difficult grading rubric, the deadline should be invoking terror in the students. Today, though, they seem to be focused on more riveting topics of conversation, like their enigmatic professor’s relationship status.

“I asked him at his office hours,” the other student says, flipping her long hair over a shoulder.

She secretly considers her silky hair to be her best feature, although she would never admit that out loud. Much good it does her in attracting their handsome professor’s attention, though. Once, when she flipped it back and forth a few too many times, he asked if she had a cervical spine condition. Not exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

“Don't lie,” her friend chides, unpacking her binder and textbook.

“I did!” The young woman protests. Almost instantly, she deflates again, heavily leaning an elbow on the table in front of her. “Well, kind of. I asked what his plans were for White Day. He said he didn't have any.”

“He could still be in a relationship and not have plans for White Day,” a male student who had been listening intently from the second row interjects, disdain dripping from his tone. His friend seated next to him barks out a laugh. After receiving a glare from the long-haired student, he awkwardly morphs his laugh into a cough, averting his eyes.

“He also could've lied to you,” another student from across the aisle contributes. “He seems like a pretty private person.”

(It should be noted that their professor’s relationship status is a topic in which the entire classroom is deeply interested.)

“I saw him at a coffee shop last week,” yet another student contributes, this time from the third row. “He was having coffee with a man that looked like a celebrity. They seemed pretty friendly.”

“That could have been his brother, for all you know,” the male student from the second row protests. “Or an old school friend.”

“I'm just saying, that's what I saw,” the student says, raising her hands defensively. Her eyes widen in shock, and she drops her hands as quickly as she raised them, just as a familiar figure appears in the classroom’s doorway.

 _“I_ still think he's single,” the long-haired student protests, turning dismissively into her seat… and directly into the line of sight of the topic of their discussion: Professor Park Jinyoung.

“Hello, Professor,” she greets smoothly, seeming almost unperturbed if not for the redness creeping up her neck where her makeup doesn’t reach.

“It seems like maybe I haven't been assigning enough homework,” Professor Park says calmly, resting his satchel on his desk. He opens the bag and begins unpacking his course materials with a thoughtful hum. “Clearly everyone has a lot of free time on their hands.”

The students sink down in their seats, collectively embarrassed at being caught gossiping. It could have been worse, truly--their conversations at the bar about Professor Park tend to get a bit more explicit--but even so, mortification creeps across the classroom like a silent, suffocating wave.

Not that Professor Park seems to mind one bit. In fact, he seems perfectly content to ignore the room full of red faces and begin the lesson as if nothing happened.

It doesn’t take long for the students to forget their minor indiscretion and become wholly engrossed in the lecture material. There is a reason every one of Park's class sections is waitlisted; his teaching style is intuitive and intense, pushing students out of their comfort zones so they gain confidence in their writing by the end of the semester.

Perhaps the most compelling motivator for students, though, is that he's incredibly easy on the eyes. Students of every sexual orientation willingly admit that Professor Park has been the subject of their less-than-wholesome daydreams. It doesn’t help that the professor himself deliberately withholds information pertaining to his personal life, leading to wild speculation from the student body. In the three years that he’s taught at this university, the most any student has been able to get out of him is that he’s not an only child.

Only that much in _three years._ The man is notoriously secretive.

It doesn’t stop students from trying, however. The long-haired young woman in the front row, new to Professor Park’s roster this semester, has been particularly persistent. She has been very vocal about her quest to obtain more information from the professor, much to her classmates’ amusement and, occasionally, annoyance. Bets have been placed on her endeavor.

The stakes are high.

The lecture continues at its typical pace. The majority of students listen thoughtfully, jotting down occasional notes. Some scribble furiously, attempting to capture every word that is spoken. A handful just stare at the professor, eyes losing focus and minds far away.

It's not until an unfamiliar figures appears in the small window of the classroom door that every student snaps to perfect attention. The stranger peers through the glass, lifting a pair of expensive looking sunglasses from his eyes and using them to push his dark hair back from his face. He chews on his lower lip as his large eyes scan the room, landing on their professor with a look of joyful recognition. The man waves to the students, smiling, then points enthusiastically to Professor Park, as though instructing them to get his attention.

“Excuse me, Professor,” a student interrupts, sheepishly raising her hand as an afterthought. “There's someone at the door.”

“Oh?” Professor Park asks. He turns to look, and for the briefest moment his face contorts into an expression of confusion. He turns back to the students, expression once again coolly neutral. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Professor Park approaches the door and opens it, craftily using the broad shoulders of his suit jacket to block the majority of the students’ view of the man waiting in the hall. He slips outside, allowing a few ideally placed students only the briefest glance of the mysterious man, who wears a leather jacket and holds a collapsible umbrella in one hand. The students catch a glimpse of the man bouncing on his toes, smiling broadly at their professor, before the door is quickly slammed shut.

The classroom erupts in a sudden collective hiss of excited whispers. Students from the back rows scramble forward, pushing each other to get a better view out of the door’s small window. No one dares to cross the threshold of the front row, however, as the strange man could still see them if he chooses to look.

At that moment, Professor Park, as infuriating as ever, stands directly in front of the window, blocking from view everything but the back of his head and neck. A subvocal groan rises from the group of students.

“Why is he like this?” someone whines.

“I honestly think I hate him sometimes,” another student confesses.

“Shut up and _look,”_ someone hisses.

Tense silence falls over the group, as a hand snakes around the back of Professor Park's neck. Initially the owner of the hand is indeterminable--it could very well be the professor's own fingers that scratch slowly at the short hairs above his collar. Several students tilt their heads like curious birds, attempting to determine the owner of the hand. Merely seconds later their unspoken question is answered, as Professor Park moves just a few centimeters to the side. The mysterious man comes into view again, and it becomes clear that the hand wrapped so delicately around their professor's neck is not his own.

One student swears to this day that she saw the mysterious man grin directly at her before what happened next.

The students whose front-row positions allow them the best view out of the door's narrow window gasp collectively. Students at the back stand and crane their necks, sharply whispering “What happened? _What?”_ One student pulls her turtleneck up over her face, making a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat.

The leather jacketed man pulls Professor Park in close and kisses him full on the mouth. It is not a quick kiss. There is enough time for several students to observe the tension in the man's jawline and the dark stubble that dusts it, the way the professor relaxes into the man's hold and shivers slightly in response.

(In retrospect, there may have been some editorializing on the students’ recollection of the event. They can hardly be blamed for this, all things considered.)

Much too abruptly for the students’ liking, the kiss ends. Professor Park steps in front of the window again, and the man is once more hidden from view. Moments later, Professor Park returns to the classroom, holding the collapsible umbrella the leather jacket man had been carrying. As the professor returns to his desk, his typically emotionless visage morphs into one of perplexity. His students are all out of their seats, and appear to be suffering from various states of emotional turmoil.

“I believe we were discussing dependent clauses,” the professor announces in his clear, deep voice, eyeing his students expectantly. A split second passes in which the students merely stare at him with stunned expressions, and then they lurch into movement, scrambling back to their seats.

True to form, Professor Park never addresses the incident. Not a single student retains any of the rest of the lecture that day. Former students of Professor Park's, upon hearing the story retold, refuse to believe it happened. The tale is written off as an unsuccessful attempt by the underclassmen to sensationalize their seniors.

The long-haired student in the front row gamely buys her classmates a round at the next night out. She has enough sense to admit when she's been bested.

 

//

 

When the last student has left the classroom following that fateful lecture, Jinyoung retrieves his cell phone from his satchel, shaking his head to himself as he locates his boyfriend's number and dials.

Jackson is already laughing when he answers.

“Although I appreciate the gesture, you should know that I keep a spare umbrella in my office for exactly such occasions,” Jinyoung says, as the laughter on the other end of the line decreases to a self-satisfied giggle. “But you already knew that, didn't you?”

“There is a spicy pepper next to your name on Rate My Professor,” Jackson informs him, not even remotely repentant. Jinyoung can picture the determined look on his face. “I needed to mark my territory.”

“You don't have any competition, Sseun-ah.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the 왕개박개 group chat for the idea and Paula for the beta


End file.
